Letters Home
by Es Aitch
Summary: After his fall, Sherlock writes letters to those he left behind. He never sends them. Letters are in no particular order. Letters are addressed to John, Mycroft, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Disclaimer: Everything recognizable to the general public doesn't belong to me, but to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
1. First Letter to John

My Dear Blogger,

You told me that your therapist had you writing a blog to help you adjust to civilian life. I'm having a hard time adjusting to my life of being 'not alive'. So I thought I would give it a try. I suppose, in the end, it can't hurt.

I should start with an apology. As you've probably figured out by now, I arranged the phone call that sent you to check on Mrs. Hudson. I'm sorry, John, but I had to get you as far away from Bart's as I could. I wanted to send you somewhere safe, because there was no way I could focus on doing what I had to do if you were in jeopardy of being hurt. But I also wanted to send you somewhere that when you heard the news you wouldn't be alone. That's what people prefer, yes? To not be alone when they receive terrible news?

While I was doing everything in my power to not take the drastic last steps, that I've obviously had to take, I also had to have everything orchestrated and prepared as if I would have to do that. In the end, you did what you've always done: you surprised me. I didn't think you'd make it back so quickly, but from the rooftop, I could hardly miss your presence.

It was never my intent for you to witness my fall. Perhaps it was better. It did have the benefit of making me more sentimental than usual. Which probably made the phone call more believable. The phone call in one sense was the absolute truth. I won't try to explain it in a letter, I'll save that for when we can speak in person.

I've been watching over you for these past few months. It's an interesting thing, watching you suffer. On the one hand, it motivates me to ensure your safety. On the other, it sometimes seems impossible to remain hidden because I just want to laugh with you again - to have your wonderful tea. To argue with you about the status of my health. To make you not so sad anymore. I want to fulfil your request for "One last miracle" - and I promise that as soon as it's safe to do so, I will fulfil it.

I can't say you're my best friend, since I'm not sure one can have a 'best' friend, when they've just got one.

Very Sincerely Yours,  
**Sherlock Holmes**


	2. Second Letter to John

My Dear John,

I've been wandering the streets for ages now, it seems. Don't fret for me. I prefer wandering and sleeping rough to living the lap of luxury. It is one of the ways which my brother and I differ. Though, I will admit that 'living rough' was easier when I wasn't dead. When I could depend on so many to provide for my needs and leave me to worry about my brain and therefore my cases.

I think you would be pleased - so many people are fighting your "war", John. I'm in Eastern Europe and even here there is graffiti stating people's belief in me.

Does it comfort you?

I told you that I was a fake. I told you to tell everyone that I lied. A part of me hoped you would, but the more sentimental aspects of my thought process - that you had a manner of teasing out of me - knew you would never believe it. Though for your own safety, I'm glad you're not fighting this yourself. It would be dangerous for you and make what I have to do nearly impossible.

But, people are fighting, John. In both of our names, they are fighting. Try to take comfort in that.

Very Sincerely Yours,  
**Sherlock Holmes**


	3. Third Letter to John

My Dear John,

Today, I returned to my grave-site. I can tell you didn't offer Mycroft much help - perhaps save the location. The location is very you. The headstone? Very Mycroft. But then, what do the dead care if the locations and headstones don't reflect them? It's the kind of sentiment that is meant for the living - those left behind.

I have no need for such sentiments - living or dead. Still, there's something uniquely quiet about cemeteries. I remember finding you in the cemetery when we were in Dartmoor. At first, I thought you had gone there in an attempt to avoid me - as if hiding among such sentiments would keep me away. But sitting here now, I think I get it. While there is quiet, it's not... boring. The sentiments people leave behind, either in the words on the stones or in physical form like flowers... each one tells me something about both the person who visits and the person who is deceased.

I have come here today, hoping that you won't change your routine... I need to see you, John. I don't know why. Maybe just to reassure myself that it's all worth it. You once told me that you were a soldier and killed people... I never really understood that, until now. Does that make me naïve, innocent or simply a 'freak' as so many label me?

I've killed people, John. While the threat against those I left behind still looms, those that I've killed weren't threatening me directly at the time. They weren't even threatening any of you at the time. One was just sitting down to breakfast in a café - poison, Botulinum - you remember? I thought it appropriate.

But another... I killed with my bare hands... I felt the breath ebb out of him, the pulse slow and finally stop...

What have I become? I don't think I could return to you now, even if I wanted to. I have turned into the monster that so many warned you that I was.

Very Sincerely Yours,  
**Sherlock Holmes  
**  
Post Script: I hadn't expected to see you with Mrs. Hudson today. It reminds me of why I am doing this. I promise, as long as I am alive, you will be protected.


	4. First Letter to Mycroft

Brother Dear,

This is probably the sixth or maybe twenty-third time I have attempted to write this letter. Odd, since I know you will never read it. Or maybe you will should I fail in my mission. Perhaps that is what makes this so difficult for me to write.

You always said that "Caring isn't an advantage." Is that what made it so easy for you to tell my life story to Moriarty? Don't misunderstand me. I understand why you did it. But was it easy for you? Do you continue to not care even though you believe me dead?

I know you haven't figured it out yet. Because I know that if you knew, nothing on this planet would stop you from finding me. And I would know if you were looking for me.

This means only one thing: John failed me. A part of me expected he wouldn't understand everything I told him. That's why I left my phone, hoping you would be able to make something of it. But I had hoped he would go to you and together the two of you would be able to work out that I am alive. I'm not angry with him. What good would getting angry do?

I must admit disappointment, though. A part of me wants to be found. I don't need help and I do not wish to endanger anyone's lives more than necessary. But, I do miss the knowledge that if I ever became entangled in something beyond my capacities, you would be there to help me, with very few questions asked.

And, Dear Brother, I do miss you. We never properly discuss such sentiments. But at the end of the day, you are all the family I have left. That's not to say that John and Mrs. Hudson aren't family. But, you... you have known me since birth, which is a different connotation when discussing family.

If these happen to be the last words that you read from me. Thank you, Mycroft. For everything.

I remain always, your baby brother,  
**Sherlock Holmes**


	5. Fourth Letter to John

Dear John,

Do you remember when The Woman kidnapped you? We never discussed it. But I was there the entire time. I knew it wasn't Mycroft and it didn't take much for me to figure out where you had been taken.

I remember so clearly how soft your voice was the first time you said, "Tell him you're alive." You jumping on Moriarty's back should have been enough to tell me how much you valued me. But, I've never been good at the friendship thing. But that day, hearing the concern in your voice - hearing you verbally jumping to my defence and my honour - John, no one has ever done that for me before.

And then you got angry! On my behalf, you stood up to the dominatrix who brought England to her knees, and you _yelled_ at her! I don't know that I've ever been so proud or honoured to have a friend.

You said that day that I would out-live God trying to have the last word. And perhaps my actions on the roof of St. Bart's prove the weight of your words.

I made a mistake when I was standing there. I was so caught up in listening to your conversation that I forgot my mobile was on, until the alert sounded. Though, to be honest, I wasn't sure if she had actually sent the text to me, or if she was just trying to appease you.

When my presence was revealed, I had to leave. There was too much information to process. Not just the fact that she was alive, but the way you fought for my honour.

Perhaps, if I'm honest with myself - with you, I'm terrified of the day I reveal to you I'm not dead. And that conversation you had with The Woman only serves to remind me of why I should be afraid. If there had been any other way, John, I would have taken it. I can only hope that one day you will understand and that you will not hate me forever.

I remain, very sincerely yours,  
**Sherlock Holmes**


	6. First Letter to Molly

My Dear Forensic Pathologist,

I want you to know I am alive. Or at least I was at the writing of this letter. Though I suppose, should it ever find its way into your hands, I am probably no longer living.

Molly, I must thank you. You trusted me completely and blindly. The only question you asked was, "What do you need?" You have no idea how much that consoled me. A part of me wanted to tell you everything. In the end, not only was I concerned for your safety, but I simply couldn't burden you with the full knowledge. I was already making your life complicated enough.

I said that day that you've always counted and I've always trusted you. That remains true. In one sense, all of our lives rest in your hands, Molly Hooper, and I cannot thank you enough for taking on that responsibility. Nor can I think of anyone else that I could trust enough to shoulder such a burden.

Moriarty thought he could use you to get to me. Had he not underestimated you in such a spectacular way, he would have succeeded. Molly, I've always known I could turn to you when I couldn't possibly turn to anyone else. You are so many things to me. But, I view you as close as family. I know John doesn't approve of how I treat you, but it is difficult for me. I treat you the way Mycroft and I treated each other when we were younger. That's how important you are to me, Molly: you are the sister that I never had.

That Christmas... It was the first time since college that I had undeniable proof that anyone saw me as... more than just a friend. I never actually thanked you for the boxes of microscope slides. I was quite excited, but the first time I sat down to use one, I pulled it out and it had already been prepared. Molly, you went through all that work to prepare little mysteries for me - it made me smile, however briefly. As I was in the middle of the case, I opened the second box and was equally pleased that it did contain blank slides.

I had been slowly working my way through your little mysteries, before I was so rudely interrupted by Moriarty. I hope they are all still there for me when I return.

I remain, your Consulting Detective,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	7. First Letter to Mrs Hudson

My Dear Landlady (not my housekeeper),

I happened to be in London for a few days and watched over you. I shouldn't have, I realize now. I nearly lost my resolve. I miss everyone for different reasons, but Mrs. Hudson, loosing you has been like loosing Mother all over again. Did you know that would happen? When you contacted me, asking me for help all those years ago, I never dreamed that it would lead to this. No one could ever replace Mother. However, you managed to squeeze your way into my heart against my better judgment and you soothed the hole that was left there by her absence.

When Moriarty levelled his threat, he mentioned my friends. In that instant, an image of both you and John popped into my brain. I hope you can forgive me for any inconvenience my 'death' may have caused you. Mycroft should have executed my will and it was my intention that you shouldn't have to worry about anything financial ever again. I've never cared for worldly possessions, but that doesn't mean I don't understand the importance of them. And you have been so good to me, you deserve to not have to fret for your own needs.

Mycroft has been given strict instructions that 221B should be maintained by you and left alone for five years. When I say alone, I mean other than any care you decide to exhibit towards it. Think of it as a way that you can still care for me. For it is my intention to return to Baker Street, when it is safe for all to do so. I know you have the need to care for me as much as you are able and perhaps in this small way the loss you feel won't be as painful.

I am quite sure your nick name for me has become "Lost Boy" or something similar that is at once enduring and critical at the same time. Out of everyone, it is you that I most look forward to seeing again. That is not a slight against John - I simply can't predict his response to my return. I know that you won't demand an explanation from me. I know that you will welcome me back and things will continue on as if nothing ever happened. I suppose, if John has shown me what loyalty is, you have shown me unconditional love. (And we are never to speak of that last sentence out loud - I have a reputation to uphold, after all.)

Have you figured it out yet, why I always call you 'Mrs. Hudson'? You gave me permission ages ago to call you by your first name. Even asking that question, I'm quite assured I don't need to explain it to you - you've always understood me in ways others refused to eve try.

I remain always, my dear Mrs. Hudson, your tenant (not your charge),

**Sherlock Holmes**


	8. First Letter to Lestrade

**A/N: I don't normally do notes mid-story, but this format does allow for it. Thank you to all who've let me know you're interested in reading this series/want it to continue either through reviews or putting this on your alert list. Please see: **lilyofthevalley2 (FFN: u/1743328/)** and her series **_**Letters to a Ghost**_** for John's Letters. (Note: we've written them independent of each other, so her letters are not replies to mine.) This is the last letter until my Sherlock muse decides to say more (could be a day or a month – Sherlock is a bit unpredictable). Do keep this story on alerts, though, I'm not abandoning it. **_If you have prompt ideas, please feel free to PM**.  
**_

**Finally, I have a one-shot that will be posted tomorrow and a proper story that I will start posting in a few days, so I'm not abandoning writing for **_**Sherlock**_** just adding to the list. ~Es Aitch  
**

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Detective In- (Crossed out)

Gre- (crossed out)

Lestrade,

This letter may come as a shock to you, especially with what I'm about to say. I hold no ill will towards you for the events of that night - you know the night I mean. More than that, I want to say "Thank you." Don't keel over from shock, I know manners, even if I don't abide by them.

Thank you, Greg. That night could have gone so much worse had anyone else from the Yard been leading the group. I knew you would return to arrest me, it only made sense to the other idiots with whom you work. But, I am glad it was you who came. You did your best to keep John and Mrs. Hudson out of it and I am forever grateful to you for that effort. In a night when my life was being torn apart piece by piece, knowing you still wanted to protect us as much as you could... it was a comfort.

That wasn't the last surprise, though. What surprised me was when Moriarty threatened to kill my friends - and I discovered that I could so easily name you. You saved me so many times, in so many ways - I cannot express them all. You gave me work, when I was nothing more than a drug addict. (When I was virtually homeless.) You believed in me and gave me proper incentive to get clean. I suppose we both know that for me 'clean' is a relative term, since its not so much the drugs that are my addiction.

Out of everyone I've worked with at the Yard, you are the brightest and the best. I apologize for the inconvenience my association has caused you. I have no doubt that your involvement will be cleared - but I am aware it will take some time. Keep an eye on Dimmock. He needs your guidance as much as I do. Well, that and one day he might out-shine you, best that you be prepared for that.

Finally, my dear Detective Inspector, know that I still believe in you. I only hope that you can find it in yourself to still believe in me.

Always,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	9. First Letter to Verity

**A/N: Verity is an OC who was at Uni with Sherlock. I'm developing a story about her – we'll see if I ever get the courage to post it.**

* * *

Dear Verity (if that is your real name),

It has been years since I thought about you. Considering the amount I had deleted of our University experiences, I thought I might have deleted you as well. But, here I am in the middle of America and my thoughts turn toward you. I wonder how much of what you've told me has been true. Now that I am considered dead; now that I am alone in this world; now that it could cause more harm than good for people to know who I am; I wonder how much of what you told me about yourself was true.

Finding myself here, I imagine you were quite honest with me. I never knew how much it must have taken for you to trust me. I wish I knew where you were now, I could use someone to stand with me now. And you would, wouldn't you? In spite of everything I've done, if there were a way for me to call you to my aid, you would come running.

You deserved someone better in your life than I was. You stuck up for me and defended me, even at determent to your own reputation... And I never helped you. I hardly seemed to acknowledge your existence. I am sorry; I had no idea how lonely you must have been, until now. We had so much in common: both of us orphans, both of us struggling to find our own way in a cruel world.

But I had something you didn't: I had one person in my life that if everything fell to pieces I could go to for help. You didn't even have that, save for me. If ever our paths should cross again, I promise to make that up to you. You have no idea the influence you've had on my life.

You might be the reason I get on so well with John. You said you had a military background. I think that gave you a great understanding about the world, but you quietly allowed others to shine. Allowed _me_ to shine. And yet, you could not only take me to task, but you could challenge me. I couldn't see it at the time, but we worked together rather well. Now that I think of it, you prepared me to live with John. "Those who don't believe in coincidence must lead such dull lives."

I suppose I should thank you, but I'd rather do that in person. I only hope to one day be afforded the opportunity.

Always,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	10. Fifth Letter to John

My Dear Blogger,

It probably comes as no surprise to you that I miss running experiments. All this cloak & dagger stuff is really more Mycroft's arena. But I am doing it now because I am the only one who can.

I never told you the results of one of my experiments. I never told anyone. Mycroft and Lestrade were the only two who even knew that I ran the test and I'm rather certain that they took my silence to mean that I had proved my hypothesis correct.

I'm sure you remember the ending of the case you took to title "A Study In Pink." In the end, it was two bottles with two pills. "Take the pill from the good bottle, you live. Take the pill from the bad bottle, you die." I had to have definitive proof that I was right.

I could not trust Anderson and his team to run the analysis, so Mycroft pulled some strings to get access to the evidence. They were bagged and tagged as "Pill A" and "Pill B." I had bagged them myself the night you shot the cabbie. I did not trust anyone with the importance of this evidence.

Pill A, was found to the left and far away from the cabbie. That was because when I tried to ask him if I was right or not, he refused to answer. That annoyed me, so I flung the pill in his face and that was the direction it bounced. Pill B was found fairly close to the body and to the right. That is because he was holding the pill in his right hand when you shot him, so when he dropped it, it fell fairly close to his body.

I didn't run the tests until after the case of the "Blind Banker" because I couldn't very well run the experiments with you watching me. By then you were covering time at the surgery and I didn't have any pressing cases.

I decided to test Pill B first. Not that it really mattered, testing either would tell me if he had picked the proper pill or not. I took Pill B and carefully opened the capsule so I could separate out the white medicinal balls from the red ones. Once I had done that, I ground the white ones up and tested it. The composite was a mix between sugar and salt. Perfectly harmless. I then did the same to the red balls. It was a substance I couldn't identify. But when I mixed it with blood and other tissue samples, it was obviously toxic.

Feeling relieved that I had obviously chosen the correct pill, I proceeded to run the tests on Pill A - my pill. No one would be more shocked than I was when the tests produced the same results!

Both pills contained poison! I was... shocked to say the least. Then, I realised how stupid I had been! The Cabbie told me in no uncertain terms, but I didn't listen. I stated that both bottles were the same. He replied, "In every way." Stupid! In every way! So of course both pills would be poison. He must have developed a tolerance to the poison. Or it was genetically engineered to be somewhat safe for him. That explained the lapse between murders, even! He needed time to recover from the poison himself before taking another pill. Because even with a tolerance, poison can still kill you if you're not careful.

And so my dear Doctor Watson, you did save my life! I am forever indebted to you for that.

I never told anyone the results of the experiment. As I said, Lestrade and Mycroft took my silence to mean that I had chosen the correct pill. If we make it through this ordeal alive, I will share all these things that I've kept hidden from you. You deserve at least that much.

I remain, very sincerely yours,

**Sherlock Holmes**

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**A/N: This came about because every time I watch the "Two Pills" scene it reminds me of the "Battle of Wits" scene from **_**The Princess Bride**_**. If you don't know what I'm talking about – watch the movie, it's worth it!**


	11. Second Letter to Lestrade

**A/N: Warning for mentions of drugs/drug use**

* * *

Detective Inspector,

I was sorely tempted today. I'm in Peru, one of the biggest manufactures of the coca plant. Cocaine is readily available, if you know where to look.

During the case that John came to call "Hounds of Baskerville," I negotiated with Mycroft to gain access to the facilities for twenty-four hours. At the time I thought it was worth the price, now I'm not so sure.

I had to promise Mycroft I would completely give up all nicotine and allow him to search for flat for any nicotine containing products or drug paraphernalia. He had read some report that said nicotine stimulates similar brain chemistry to cocaine, so it could be a gateway drug, or at least make staying clean difficult for me, should I continue to smoke. I was so caught up on solving the case that I didn't really think seriously about the terms to which I was agreeing. Maybe that's why I'm in this situation now. Maybe my brain wasn't functioning like I was used to due to the withdrawal symptoms.

As far as any of you are concerned, I'm dead, so I don't know why I'm allowing such an agreement to hold such power over me. But, my dear Inspector, I am trying. Today was very difficult.

I never thanked you properly for the part you played in getting me clean. Well, as clean as is possible for someone like me. And perhaps that's part of the reason for my attempts to stay clean. I only hope that any sentiment I have towards you and your efforts are enough.

I came across a crack house today. I could tell from the smells that were spilling forth from it. My veins ached since the drug had been denied for such a long time. I'm bored. I have been for the past week. There are certain things that must happen before I make my next move and I've been waiting here for the past week. There is nothing for me to do until the next action happens. I must simply wait.

I'm bored and passed a crack house. That's never a good combination. I… miss you today. If things were normal and we were in London, I would call you up and explain what happened. You would take me for a drive in the country, we would stop at a little sweet shop, and we would just talk until the shaking stopped and the craving faded. You would ensure my safe return to Baker Street and never breathe a word of it to John or Mycroft. I could trust that you wouldn't say anything, because calling you would be the right thing to do.

I don't have you here. I hope I have the strength you seem to believe I possess.

I remain your clean Consulting Detective,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	12. Sixth Letter to John

**A/N: Thanks to Lilyofthevalley2 for assistance with timeline and beta.**

**This letter is one that Sherlock actually sent to John. It was postmarked the day of his death, but John didn't receive it until the day after he visited Sherlock's grave in TRF. According to my and lilyofthevalley2's headcanon timeline, this would be about two months after his fall.**

* * *

My One Friend,

If I know you as well as I think I do, this letter should find its way to you after you finally work up the courage to visit my grave. If I know my brother, there won't be a funeral and if I know you, it will take you a bit to get there. It might take longer, as I suspect you won't remain at Baker Street and I don't have a good way to predict where you might end up lodging.

My Dear John Watson,

Firstly, do not blame yourself. I know that you are! If you think as highly of me as all your words of praise suggest, then please understand that nothing you could have done would have changed what has happened.

As we were leaving Kitty Riley's house, I mentioned, there was only one thing left for Moriarty to do. I never finished that sentence. I simply couldn't bear the thought to mention to you that this would lead to my death. That is why I had to go and attend to things on my own. I had to settle my affairs. I had to make sure that you, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, even Mycroft, would understand my intentions.

I apologize for making you the recipient of my last will and testament, but there is no one else I can trust with such a delicate duty. Tell Mycroft that I'm sorry for the mess I've created by doing it in this way, but time is pressing and I have much to do in what little time I have left.

Here are my last wishes. I am of sound mind (including the certainty of my eminent death) and body and I expect that my instructions will be followed to the letter.

Mycroft Holmes, my brother and the British Government, will retain control of my assets, as he has always had a better understanding than even myself what is required in times like this. He has a better idea than I do of the assets I possess.

My part of the rent for 221b Baker Street is to be covered by those assets as long as John Watson lives there. Any amount of time that John Watson is not living there, then the full amount of the rent is to be covered by my estate.

Mrs. Hudson is given guardianship over my possessions in 221b – should she desire to box the experiments up, I understand, but please do not get rid of anything. She will instinctively understand how to best maintain care for those possessions.

There are file boxes under my bed. Those include all my case notes – both cases I am currently working on and ones I had solved (or didn't solve). Please see that Lestrade has access to all of them. Since the article was all about my being a fake, the files might help the Yard to at least understand I didn't fake any of the work I did for them. Besides, they might learn a thing or two by reading them.

Should John Watson have difficulty getting his personal needs met, any of my assets - including the possessions at Baker Street - that can be utilised to ease his way are at his disposal. Enclosed are six letters of recommendation, signed and sealed by me. However, I doubt that anyone will take the word of a fake genius, it is the best I can do outside of what I've already offered to him.

This document is binding for a period of five years. After five years, whomever is still alive of the four people mentioned in this document should gather and decide at that point how best to address my assets.

Finally, my dear blogger, you said once that I would out-live God trying to have the last word. I hope that I have not disappointed you in this letter. Do take care of yourself. If you cannot do that for yourself or for me, please do it for Mrs. Hudson.

I remain always, your friend,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	13. A Letter to the Homeless Network

To My Homeless Network:

If I regret anything I have done in the past seven months, it is the suddenness with which I left you. I did not even take the time to ensure your care and livelihood in my absence. For that, I am truly sorry. The aid you have been to me on so many occasions has often been the difference between solving a case and not.

Of course, our history together goes back farther, as some of you may recall. I suppose I feel indebted to you since you saved my life – back when I couldn't be convinced that my life was worth saving. You taught me what my life was worth and I hope that I have helped others to see the value you possess as well.

This is a rather general letter, for if I started to list names, I am quite sure I would forget someone – or sometimes I did not even know the names of those who were quite dear to me. So you will have to simply accept this generic letter and those of you who think this should be addressed more personally, know that you are.

I have tried to create connections with the homeless in other cities I have been in, but it never seems to work as well. Perhaps that is because of the time I spent homeless and on my own with only you at my side.

You have saved me in more ways than I can count. Please know of my deep gratitude for all you have given me. I do hope you find a way to manage without me. I do so wish to see you again when I return.

Until we meet again,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	14. Seventh Letter to John

My Dear Doctor Watson,

That last night after we made our daring escape, I said, "Take my hand." You quipped that people would talk. As I've said before: they do little else.

You failed to understand, even after knowing me so long, to know me. I've never needed or required touch, nor do I completely understand it.

Touch is basic to me. Touching carries no meaning other than the meaning we assign to it. I needed to hold your hand because it gave me a better idea of how fast or slow you were running. Beyond that, it meant nothing to me.

Meant. Past tense. Today? As I face "The Big Bad World," as Moriarty once described it, I think back to that moment. John, I… Needed… no. John, I _need_ touch. Not for sentimental reasons, but being out here – doing the things I've done. Seeing what I've seen. Touching grounds me.

I would go so far as to say you ground me – but if this letter were to ever be found, then people really would talk.

I wish you were here now to take my hand. To ground me. To remind me of what is really important. I need that in my life. In the few short years we knew each other, you changed me. I don't know if I'm better off for the change, but your presence in my life change me in a rather permanent way.

I will return to you, my faithful blogger – even if it kills me. (And it might do just that.)

I remain, very sincerely yours,

**Sherlock Holmes**


	15. Eighth Letter to John

**Note: I know there's a lot of debate about when Sherlock jumped from Bart's. Until the show reveals otherwise, I'm going with mid-December - I admit, it's mostly because I'm in London right now, so this letter seemed only right. XD Also, Sherlock goes sentimental, I've tried to keep it from going OOC, but it's Christmas :P  
**

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My Faithful Blogger,

It is Christmas and I find myself once again wandering the streets of my beloved London. It has only been a few weeks since I... fell... from the roof of Bart's. I had left London as quickly as possible, for I couldn't take the risk of my brother learning the truth too soon. But now, it is Christmas and it is only right that I should be here. I suppose you could accuse me of sentiment.

It is difficult to believe that it has only been a year since we had that Christmas gathering at Baker Street. Now, as I wander the streets of London, hiding in the shadows and seeking shelter from the torrents of rain, I wish I had a place to go for Christmas. I've never been what anyone would call 'religious' however, it is very strange to wander the streets and know that those I hold closest to my heart believe me to be dead during this time of year that should be about spending time with those we hold dear.

This year, London at Christmas has lost something. Oh, I was not at all afraid to wander down Oxford Street the night of the 23rd - it is always so packed with people, that no one would pay me any attention anyway. And perhaps that's the problem. I am a show-off, though I detested the attention the media gave to me, I need an audience. I need people to know I exist and what I can do.

Now it is Christmas Day, with the rain and thunder, I doubt we will see the sun. It is grey and wet - much like my mood. I should not have come back, it will only make leaving again that much harder. My only solace is the opportunity I now have to check in on you and those others who are so close to me. Not even Molly knows I am here, though I will make a point to visit her later this evening - after all, I still need proof for myself that I am alive.

Do not think for one second that any of this has been easy for me. Just because something is required to be done, does not mean that it is easy.

I do miss you, my friend, and though it may seem strange to say at this time, I do wish you a Happy Christmas.

I remain, very sincerely yours,

**Sherlock Holmes **


	16. Second Letter to Mycroft

**A/N: This is a letter that Sherlock sends to his brother. In ACD canon, Sherlock does eventually turn to his brother for help while he hunts down Moran, so that is the inspiration for this letter. **

* * *

Mycroft,

I hardly know how to begin, other than to say, "The brother you thought was dead is alive." Unlike that story though, I will not apologize for what I have done. I did what was necessary – what _you_ made necessary. And now, I am making it necessary for you to take action.

Sending this letter is dangerous unto itself, but the Homeless Network is still loyal to my memory, even if they cannot be loyal to me personally. I trust it will reach you with the seal unbroken and the contents secured.

You might have suspected something as various members of Moriarty's network started to disappear. Moriarty had shot himself on the rooftop. At least I thought he had, but there was no mention of his suicide in any of the news, so I am starting to wonder if he died. Taking out the gunmen who had threatened Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade was fairly easy. As former Colonel Sebastian Moran was the one who was after John, he has proved to be more difficult.

Before I proceed further, I need confirmation of Moriarty's death. And I need… assistance, though I am loath to admit it.

Included, you should find a flash drive. This contains an audio recording of the events that took place on the roof the day of my supposed suicide. Hopefully, you can use it with any CCTV surveillance you have from that day to clear Lestrade, purge Richard Brook and bring back Moriarty. And, if it wouldn't be _too_ much trouble, if you could start getting things in order for my return, I would appreciate it.

The courier who delivers this message to you can be used to get any messages back to me, when I am in London. Unfortunately, establishing such networks worldwide has proven more difficult. But, I do return to London frequently enough and if there was something truly urgent, I'm rather confident the Homeless Network would find a way to contact me.

Do take care of yourself. By involving you, I realise that I may be putting you at grave risk – both physically and with your position. My options however, are limited.

I trust, for both our sakes, this will remain between us.  
-**Sherlock**


	17. Third Letter to Lestrade

**A/N: I've hit a bit of a wall with "I Am Not An Addict" so have a letter instead.**

* * *

Lestrade,

I must confess something to you. I intentionally forget your name. Every time I learn it, I delete it from my Mind Palace. That may not be such a shock to you. However, my reasoning probably will surprise you. I have no memory of my father. I had Mycroft for… whatever parental figure he offered to me. Other than that, I only had instructors at school and that isn't the same.

And then one night, you burst into my life.

Fair enough, you stumbled onto my existence when you were working a case. But, it felt like you burst in. I was distraught over Bat's death – to the point that I could not function. Even with that going on, I wanted to trust you immediately. To this day, I'm not sure why, but I was shocked that I trusted you so quickly. You made it possible for me to leave Bat's body – which given the circumstances is surprising in itself – and go with you to the station. You treated me with more respect than I thought I deserved… You still treat me with more respect than I think I deserve….

I don't like calling you by your first name, because that would somehow make us equals. I don't know if I see us as equals. I don't mean it like that – very few are equal to my observations and deductions. I mean, you're someone, if I needed help, I could ask you. I don't want to be seen as your equal – nor even as your friend. You're far too important to me for that. You're the male role model that Mycroft could never be. I fear that if I start calling you by your first name, somehow you won't be able to hold that place for me anymore.

I must return soon, being away has turned me into a sentimental fool. I do care for you, Lestrade. Some day, if I'm lucky enough, I hope to see you again.

Always,

**Sherlock Holmes**


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